Rewriting My Third Life Novels & Stories

*** When I woke up, Johan was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and smoking. He heard me move and looked back. A check landed on the bed in front of me. I stared at it. He only said a few words. "I'm bored with you." Something inside me cracked. Like porcelain shattering, sharp pieces cut across my heart. Still, my voice came out calm. I even smiled. "I've got less than three months left. Couldn't you wait a little longer?" Johan frowned. "Yara Yelton, you should know your place."

I simply uttered. I didn't notice that the time passed already, the director immediately called everyone to start the scene one more time. My makeup artist retouched my makeup first before we continued. And from that moment on, I made sure I delivered my lines perfectly like I usually do. I made my scenes flawlessly that day. After almost a month, I bought a condominium somewhere within the city. I thought about it and I guess it's not safe for me to stay with my mom for a long time. She receives multiple phone calls from Damian and his mother asking where I am.

By killing me with daily heartbreak instead of one final manipulation. I'm immune. I'm suffering. I'm Aurora. And this is enough. Has to be enough. Will be enough. For however many days I have. However many times I start over. However many nights they forget me. This is my life. This is my choice. This is my third path. And I'm living it. One day at a time. One midnight at a time. One heartbreak at a time. Forever. AUTHOR'S NOTE:

He rented an entire yacht for her and told me, "She has no one else. If I do not show up for her, who will?" The fourth time, the fifth time, and every time after that, the reason changed. Sometimes it sounded serious. Sometimes it was absurd. But it was always Nora. My wishes always came after taking care of Nora. Today was the seventeenth time. Grant had finally said yes. I thought I could finally fulfill Grandpa's last wish. Instead, I watched him walk out married to another woman. Nora studied my face for a moment, then said brightly, "Since we are already here, why don't we take wedding photos too? Elara will not mind, right?"

“My answer is yes.” Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I actually did it. The relief hits so hard it nearly hurts. Because I survive now. I survive. The original Minthe dies abandoned and hated and pathetic. But I rewrote the story. * * * Three years pass before I fully realize I’ve forgotten the sound of my old apartment. Forgotten the traffic outside my windows. Forgotten my phone password. Sometimes I hate myself for that. Other times, I’m too busy surviving to care. I stare into the fireplace while holding the latest letter from my father. The paper trembles slightly between my fingers.

A lifetime of pain and mistakes and regrets fading away with each passing day like some bad dream, slipping farther and farther into the abyss of the past with every waking moment. Sixteen. Shylie blinked, the word echoing in her head. She blinked, feeling her new life solidify around her, the weight of everything settling on her like a mantle. No longer a sickly middle-aged woman who had let her life slip through her fingers. No longer a ghost of her former self. This was Shylie. This was her, back to life, given the chance to make a change, to start anew. No more holding back, no more pretending, this time around, she was going to take charge.

I could drop dead any second. All I cared about was my dad's broken ring. I scooped up the black shards and tucked them into a velvet box. Didn't matter how I tried to fix it—some things just don't go back. *** Three months into treatment, Lorenzo still found me. Guess Elisa caved. Lorenzo looked wrecked—scruffy, red-eyed, all that cold mafia polish worn down to something raw. "Chiara..." he croaked from the doorway. I stayed leaning on the headboard, voice barely there. "The engagement's off. We're just history now. What do you want?"

Blake's POV The third book took three years to write, longer than the first two combined. Unlike the previous books one chronicling Morrison's revenge, the other co-authored with Wakes about systemic reform this one was deeply personal. A reflection on transformation, family, and what it meant to build life from the wreckage of attempted destruction. "Why is this one so much harder?" I asked Aloe during particularly frustrating writing session. Daniel was playing nearby, Hope was at a friend's house, and James was at basketball practice. Rare quiet moment that should have been productive.

It seemed like a trivial matter, but the more I thought about what she'd said, the more something felt off. Ryan was sick and calling my name? He wasn't exactly the type to be so sentimental over me. And the last time he mentioned something about dreaming that we were getting married... Could it be that he had also been reborn? But then again, nothing is impossible. It was strange enough that I got a second chance at life. But... if he really remembered his past life, where would my third move lead me? I promised Alaric that if we worked together, we would be able to take control of the Bloodveil Pack with three well-placed moves.

I dismissed them. I checked the time. It was six-thirty in the morning. I got up on my feet and took my bath. I was stressed out as fuck with this whole damn thing. In my past life, I had finished high school and university but now I was back to square one. All thanks to the moon goddess. But at least I was grateful, I was able to correct all my past mistakes. I was able to rewrite the examinations I had failed before and got them correctly. I want to set my life up in a straight way. Apart from Chad and Sophie, the only person that didn't take a major role in my life back then was Aiden but now he is becoming like a male lead in my life. He has this huge significance that I can't explain.